


Golden Blue

by egburps



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Drinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 19:46:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egburps/pseuds/egburps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You think you're starting to feel sick.  Shockingly enough, not from the beer. He did not come all this way to sing you a sappy fucking love song.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Golden Blue

**Author's Note:**

> well hi ahh this is my first homestuck fic but there will be more to come! i'm sorry it may be a little bad, i wrote the main bulk of this before a three week trip to another country and finished it when i got home. enjoy, and bookmarks and kudos are highly appreciated!! c:
> 
> big thanks to my bud anna (cornking on tumblr) who helped me through the entire span of writing this
> 
> oh, and follow me on tumblr- egburps.tumblr.com

Your name is Dave Strider and your life is a complete mess. It's been fucking hell without John Egbert, your now ex-boyfriend. Or so you think; you had a fight over something stupid you assume since you can't remember at this point, and the next thing you know John's walking out with his suitcase. You tried pestering him, but it always resulted in loneliness and aching.

 

It fucking sucks, and its _so_ not cool.

 

You're sitting in this lame ass bar three doors down from your apartment. A little convenient, you think. It's like a lifesaver. For when you need it the most, which is now.

 

It's been two weeks since the fight with John, you recall, and every day feels like a year passing. Life without him has been so....bland. Stale. Tasteless.

 

You need him. You really do need him. Whenever you're the farthest away from him, you realize the most how much you love him. And right now it feels like he's in the fucking North Pole, that's how far away he distanced himself from you.

 

Desperately, you check your phone to see if you've received anything from John. The only thing you find is an email from your Bro, and how much fun he's having in his new apartment in New Jersey. Y'know, despite how far away he is from you.

 

But nonetheless, he's having fun. You wish you could say the same.

 

With the combination of Bro and John, it seems like everyone's moving farther and farther away from you.

 

You affix yourself on a little tiny, red cushioned bar stool. You put your elbow on the counter in front of you, cup your cheek in your hand, and sigh the deepest fucking sigh you think is humanly possible.

 

You look around you and see _everyone_ with their boyfriend or girlfriend. You sigh again, this time smaller. You wish John was sitting in that red barstool next to you, laughing about some nerdy joke he saw online. As corny as he is, you love every breath he takes.

 

You signal the bartender over to you and you ask for a beer. He disappears for a split second, and returns with the drink sitting in front of you, a miniature napkin on its left. It's a really deep yellow color, and it starts to bother you, but you brush it off. You give him a salute-like gesture as a thank you, and he smirks. On a whim, you ask him who the performer is tonight. Usually this little shit hole actually has some decent music, and you never miss out on a chance to experience some sick tunes.

 

He shrugs and says “'Dunno. Someone called up about an hour and a half ago to see if the spot was open, and they grabbed it. That's all I know, kiddo.”

 

You feel like blowing up because he called you a “kiddo”, which you are nowhere near. No way. Striders are not _“kiddos”_.  The word sounds foreign on your mind's tongue.

 

But you shouldn't be mad at him. It's not his fault, right? Everything's been so stressful lately that you're basically looking for an excuse to explode in someone's face.

 

However, you're too upset to feel any other emotion than sadness. You hold back a scowl, and end up sighing. You slip out a little cash and hand it to him, paying for the beer. It took you a second to remember that you have to pay him, John usually did that. In fact, John did it _almost_ every time the two of you went out. Excluding the time you bought hot dogs and you got ketchup all over John's face.

 

You try to hold back a smile from the memory, but, sadly, it escapes. God, do you fucking miss him.

 

You're three sips into your beer when you hear a voice in the microphone on the little, dinky stage. It sounds slightly whiny; it feels like it has an undertone that resembles the grazing of long, almond shaped fingernails on a blackboard.

 

Yet you recognize it instantly. Through the concise lyrics of I Love You, Golden Blue by Sonic Youth the image of a face comes into your head.

 

 _His_ face.

 

His dorky, adorable, buck toothed face.

 

You think you're starting to feel sick. Shockingly enough, not from the beer. He did _not_ come all this way to sing you a sappy fucking love song.

 

You wait a few more minutes until he's finished, and once the audience claps slowly and awkwardly, you slam down the glass bottle so hard that you're a little shocked it didn't break.

 

People are staring in your direction, you can feel their eyes on your back, but you don't care because you're walking out of the bar so fast you feel like you can win the fucking marathon at this pace. You snake your way out of the bar's main entrance and run down to the tiny, almost hidden back entrance. It got darker out from when you first arrived at the bar, and you wonder how long you've exactly been on that same barstool.

 

Thankfully, the bar isn't that big so you make it to the back entrance in a little more than a minute. You look around frantically, but can't see him. You mentally panic until you feel a tapping on your shoulder. You're scared shitless until you turn around and see who's hand, arm, and body that finger belongs too.

 

Standing in front of you is dorky little John. He's biting his lip, looking at the pavement, and bouncing his leg.

 

You can't believe he's here. You literally feel your heart skip a beat.

 

He looks up, a little startled to see you staring at him. “Oh..um...hi.” He stutters, and goes back to staring at the ground.

 

You scoff despite yourself. “'Hi'? That's fucking it?”

 

He bites his lip even harder and frowns. “I..I'm sorr-”

 

You cut him off with the biggest hug you've ever given anybody in your life. “Don't you fucking dare apologize for anything.” You squeeze him. “I missed you so fucking much,” you murmur loud enough so that you know he hears you.

 

You can feel him smile and he reciprocates, “I missed you too, Dave. A shit ton to be exact.” He pulls his glasses up his nose. “I-I actually came to tell you something.”

 

“You came from wherever the hell you were just to tell me something?”

 

He pulls away from you. “Well..when you put it that way, yes. And for the record, I was staying at Jake's.” He pauses for a second, and takes a deep breath. “I...I love you, Dave. And not what preteen girls say. Like, the real deal. I'm madly in love with you. I never want to be without your stupid face again.”

 

You can't even say a single word, you're so fucking happy out of your mind. You nod and the only thing you can whisper is “Me too.”

 

John smiles so big you think he's gonna break his jaw, and he pulls you in for the best kiss you've ever had in your entire life.

 

Suddenly, you're not so lonely anymore.


End file.
